The only subject I know anything about is myself and I don't know that too clearly. William Shatner

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Anger – a sonnet

She mutters, sputters, and broods
until she explodes
into a fuel-flamed feud-
it spatters alike on friend and foe.
Better a blow than a long slow
fuse; the cold burns and freezes,
the blood cools, the mind follows
a regimen of gross revenges.
Her anger hinges
on what she feels this second.
Each flaming word singes-
her every word an affront.